


Get Over Underdome

by Pathologies



Category: Undertale (Video Game)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Dystopia, Gen, King Mettaton, Post-Apocalypse, do you love shock treatment cause you might be okay with this, more characters to come as I update, the monsters are mutants here
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-04-21
Updated: 2018-04-26
Packaged: 2018-10-22 08:39:19
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 9
Words: 19,412
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10693428
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Pathologies/pseuds/Pathologies
Summary: From the Underdome it's Mettaton's show and anything goes, just as long as the ratings go up. But with humans breaking in and sabotage backstage, Mettaton might need to retool his programming for good.





	1. The Show Everyone Knows

Sometimes they would see its light before they even saw the sun. From the Slumberland Square they would climb from their piles of rusted and broken down cars, no longer usable save for a small bed, and wander bleary-eyed and groggy to where its light glowed so bright.

 

Nothing could seem to break that giant TV's glow. It stood on that pylon above all, its energy shining even through the faint dents of what might be bullet holes and faded paint smears. By the time it was full morning the TV had gathered a crowd so tight and compact, all the muddied and tired faces eager for the first word of the day.

 

One voice said in a soft tone, “What's on the big box?”  
  
“Shhh you'll see.”  
  
The awakening pink with its boxy logo faded away to the luxurious velvet curtain. The grow rumbled with excitement, much like a school of fish.

 

Then the curtains drew back, so billowy smooth in its movements to reveal the studio, so warm compared to the muddied and rusted outside in which they stood. But the cheers came when they saw one face turn to the TV screen.

 

“Gooooood morning beauties and gentlebeauties!” his voice nearly got drowned out in the uproar over his appearance. Him. He. That guy. That beautiful box face which never got tarnished, the glowing dials that lit up when he spoke like it was the heavens talking in his favor, those elongated arms with the finest gloves. There was no other face like his, “Hello to you lovelies from outside, it's time for another day of the...”  
  
“M!T!T! DAYS!” The crowd shouted in unison.

 

Today he put on the red newscaster suit for this Monday occasion. He laughed almost as though he could hear their cheers, “That's right! It's MTT Days! Twelve hours of nothing but Mettaton, what Mettaton wants, and what Mettaton loves all coming to you live from the Underdome!”  
  
The crowd couldn't get enough of it, they thrust their fists in the air, hollering. Mettaton continued, “Joining me as always is my Dry Bones Band give an MTT welcome to them, folks!”  
  
The taller skeleton, dressed in red pinstripe and shades, put down his trumpet, “Don't need to say what a pleasure it is to be here, Mettaton, but I'll say it anyway! Golly, I relish each day I get with you, the host!”  
  
His short counterpart, sunglasses and a tuxedo, tipped his glasses, “Yeah real great to be here. Speaking of, I could use some rel--”  
  
Mettaton long held his finger on a loud buzzer until both skeletons were silent, “Charming as always, aren't they? Anyway, we got a great show for you (but when don't we have a great show for you?). And don't forget, tomorrow starts the MTTX-MLD-Games! Don't forget to place your bets in the nearest MTT TV slot, darlings! You could get big winnings!”

 

Of course they all heard of the MTTX-MLD-Games, a series of games which no one ever figured out the acronym past the MTT part. But everyone had a favorite and barely anyone left the TV screen during the week long competition. The mere announcement drove the crowd into a frenzy of shouting 'MTT MTT'. It helped his name was so easy to shorten. But the crowd always managed to go quiet once he spoke again.

 

“But that's all tomorrow! For now it's time for the best morning segment: Burgerpants Reacts! Bring him out, beauties!”

 

One cat and alligator woman in 'doctor's' scrubs escorted a tired looking cat creature, his feet nearling dragging on the carpet, “Can we please skip the segment today...I'm so tired.”  
  
“No,” the audience gave a good natured laugh, “Today Burgerpants Reacts...When He's Inside an Iron Maiden!”  
  
A disclaimer ran under his face. 'The Iron Maiden is mostly non-lethal.'

 

The crowd cheered as he got dragged towards the threatening device, somehow also designed with Mettaton's face.

 

“No no no...I have rights! I just want a break!” The girls had difficulty pushing him towards it, “Can't I get a smoke at least?!”  
  
Mettaton laughed, “That's our Burgerpants! Join us after the break when Burgerpants is in the Iron Maiden for an hour! Play us out, Dry Bones Band!”  
  
When the ads for MTT Noise Cancellers (it never specified what noise) came on, that was the cue for the people to disperse and go about their day. Occasionally they would return to the screen to watch in awe, but each day was marked with the morning ritual of MTT's Morning segment.

 

Midday came along with the Food Chariots, the few remaining trucks left. Each one came decorated with their own bright spray-painted design and naturally, their own set of defensive spikes, grills, shovels, turrets, whatever the job called for. It was necessary when coming back from the prairies to the west. And they always gathered where they knew where people would want to eat most: around the TV. And they always came, gathering to the wired slats where the chefs/drivers awaited them to take their share of this week's food.

 

“Next! What do you got, ma'am?”  
  
“It's this talking box I got from one of the garbage dives in the Slumberland cars. It still works, you just have to aheh...hook it to something electric.”  
  
“Hmm...” hands grabbed the radio to paw it, “Seems good, we can barter plenty for this. I'd say this is worth...one pack of hot cats...and a half.”  
  
“But look at it! It's worth three!”  
  
“You're lucky I don't take it from you and close this truck right now. Take the hot cats.”  
  
Defeated, the woman gave a defeated shrug, “Hot cats it is.”  
  
Crone was a man as bitter and rough as little teeth he had left. He owned this truck and began to look like it with the slat plates he used as makeshift armor and the pair of goggles hanging from his neck, rare in those parts. He grabbed the radio and put it in the pile as he snarled out, “One and a half hot cats! Get to it!”  
  
Inside the truck was a mobile kitchen, crammed with an army of people under his 'employ' of all ages. One harried worker busy grilling cried out, “We're almost behind on orders, we're full capacity boss!”  
  
“Eh, excuses. When I was your age I used to do quadruple the work with no breaks. Your lot's weak.”  
  
“I am your age now.”

 

He snorted, thumping past the steaming kitchen, “Where's that brat?”  
  
“Frisk?” asked another cook, “They went somewhere, probably to gawk at that TV.”  
  
“Dumb lot,” he muttered to himself, “Can't they tell it's all people in costumes?”  
  
Outside Frisk managed to come at the best time, the lower end of the afternoon. Also the time of MTT Days when the show entered its improvisational phase. At the moment Mettaton was on a reclining sofa in a 'doctor's office' as the cat and alligator from before 'diagnosed' him with all his amazing redeeming qualities. Occasionally they would break off on a tangent about Burgerpants doing something lazy, cutting to him sleeping somewhere as the Dry Bones band played a slide whistle.

 

Frisk rarely got to see the show, nor did they really understand it. But seeing it made them feel a part of something bigger, bigger than these parachute pants that managed to encompass all of them and Crone decided made a good enough outfit.

 

“There you are!” speak of the devil, “You know we got a fully staffed kitchen right?”

 

Frisk tried to keep silent, hoping he really didn't see him.

 

“Can you hear me? Is this one of those things where people who can't talk go deaf too?”  
  
But that was too ignorant to ignore and Firsk slowly turned their head to nod.

 

“Well what are you doing?! This is part of the agreement, you know. I let you live here, not in the prairies, and you keep your hours open.”

 

But Crone was 'clever', he saw the TV, which now switched to a game where contestants were throwing paint balloons at a cardboard effigy of a yellow creature. There was no prize.  
  
“Ahhh I see,” he said, “Well this is your break and after five more minutes, you're working the rest of the day.”  
  
Frisk frowned.

 

“Yeah, that's a yes. You see, I'm fair. I didn't even let myself take a single break when I was sixteen.”

 

At the end of the day, Frisk found themselves exhausted from baking and carrying all the junk people collected. They slumped on the floor as they heard that raspy voice again, “Frisk, it's your turn to clean the kitchen again. We're going out to catch the end of the MTT-whatever show. My treat.”  
  
“He's singing all the letters backwards, forwards, then mixed up!”  
  
Crone smiled with his gummy mouth, “Yeah, Frisk already used their break so their cleaning up here. Gotta teach kids time management skills.”  
  
“Boy, Crone,” said the elderly cook, “You sure treat Frisk better than the rest of us.”  
  
“I know, but consider this my treat: a full half hour before mandatory sleeping and sleep watch shifts!” They cheered.

 

It was ten minutes into scrubbing the pans when Frisk made an important realization: this was dumb. All this work for what? Just so they can hide in the truck's glove compartment and curl up when they heard the rumbles and loud pops. Just so they can share in one-one-fifteenth of their loot. They peered out the window, seeing the screen above. They couldn't stay here...but they couldn't go into Slumberland either.

 

Frisk had only fifteen minutes, so the first idea would be the best one in these situations. Luckily for them, an idea came fast.

 

The kid, obviously not sixteen, knew their way around machinery to detach the trailer from the main part of the truck. Now...the front seat. Crone, being so smart, left the keys in the ignition. Frisk was short for the Battle Station as Crone called it, so Frisk took the common sense route to equip one frying pan for the pedals and a pot for head protection.

 

The shift wasn't hard, after watching Crone handle it so many times, Frisk had it memorized. They just put it into D and slam the pedal.

 

Wrong pedal.

 

Now slam the pedal.

 

Crone's Battle Station was a powerful beast in motion. Frisk could now feel its power as it began to take a chunk out of one truck's back end and drill a storm of mud in its wake. Slumberland, the TV, Crone, they all sped by so fast Frisk saw only blurry lines, no faces or potential angry faces. But it didn't matter. Frisk was free. The world was theirs to explore, they could do what they--

 

In their stomach they felt a sickening sensation, like the air rising in them. They hit something to get that feeling, but the collected mud blinded their front windows. Even more strange was how the pans sort of rolled upwards, like something pulling them.

 

Frisk leaned out the side.

 

Of all their time here, Frisk never realized how close Slumberland Square was to a quarry. A massive hole meant for some purpose as an earlier time. Now it was just a massive sandstone cliff leading into a small lake. Frisk closed the door, locked it, rolled the window, and put on their seat belt.  
  
They wished they could scream. Audibly scream, but nothing of the sort would happen today.

 

It was going to be a long, silent few seconds between there and the bottom of that quarry.

 


	2. Work Was More Fun

"My, my, my what a day we had, beauties and gentlebeauties. We had all kinds of fun with friends old and some surprise guest...it's been a glamorous MTT-brand time, hasn't it? And that's the important thing: that the show continues.” He chuckled, twirling in his chair, “But as long as I'm running the show that won't change so get up early for another MTT Days now play us out, Dry Bones band!” The skeletons played on as the camera pulled back and he watched with a frozen smile for the signal to come. One...two...three...four...and we're clear. The bell rung and he stretched, moving out, “Aaaaalright everyone! Beautiful show today! You were all wonderful! Now go!” He gave a cheerful wave off, “I don't need any of you but my bones band, my performers, aaand...”

Someone had already slunk off to smoke backstage, he smell from a good distance away, “Burgy! Burgerpants, darling, light of the stage, buttercup I know you're not lighting up backstage and lazing around! So join the staff meeting we can't do it without you!” Burgerpants, as he was called, made a long suffering groan as he put out his cigarette and dragged himself to where the skeletons, the cat, and alligator had joined the robot. He could barely walk. He wanted to lay back on a nice bed and close his eyes for five minutes. Hell, not even a bed. The floor would do.

“While it's still today, Burgy!” he turned to the rest of the staff, “This is going to be a big week, so Bratty, Catty, I want you to get all our games and obstacle courses ready.”

The cat and alligator nodded, speaking in pure unison, “Oh my gosh! We're so ready for this!” “These games are gonna be so wild this week,” said Catty.

“So wild,” said Bratty.

“Girls, girls, girls you're adorable. But what did I say about that lazy hipster drawl?”

“Yes sir,” their word choice looking for that databank of 'formal' words, “We won't underperform again next time.”

“That's what I loove to hear! Now go!” As Bratty and Catty left he turned to the skeletons, “Sans, Papyrus, tighten security during this event. I don't want a sore loser trying to 'negotiate' with me again, do you understand?”

“Got it boss,” Sans pushed his shades on the brim of his...well...nothing.

“It'll be the most secure games ever!” “I'll believe when I see it~” he said, his voice now musical. He dismissed the two as he grabbed Burgerpants by the shirt.

Burgerpants really hated this part of the job. Mettaton looked at the cat mutant, “Darling, do you know why I made you my event organizer, PR person, publicity agent, backstage manager, and second headliner?”

“No one else would do them?--gkkk!” The bot's grip tightened on his shirt.

“Noooo you silly! Because I saw how you languished behind those fryers and I thought 'there's someone who needs a chance'. And did I give you a chance, Burgerpants?”

He sighed, he head drooping, “Yes...you did.” It was technically true.

“I did! Everytime we get those cavemen outside to stand around and watch me and covet my MITT-brand products, it means they WORSHIP me! And you don't go attacking god, do you? So with all those responsibilities, it's almost like the 30% of the show that doesn't rest on me goes directly to your shoulders! So if it goes wrong, we can't blame me, can we?”

“Why start now?”

“Nooo...” he didn't loosen that tight grip, “It means when this show goes bad and all the humans decide to torch the Underdome it's your fault. Just you. Directly you. And how would that look after giving you a big shot?”

Burgerpants' eyes darted around, “...Mettaton, boss, sir. What is this about—IF I CAN ASK IF I CAN ASK.” The cat found himself dragged into the editing room, a feat which wasn't so terrible now that Mettaton was giving his more human legs a try. Mettaton unceremoniously dumped him in a seat.

“Burgy, darling, sweet-pea, light of the show...” he could hear the barely restrained impatience in that voice, “Who's in the MTTX-MLD-Games this year?”

“That'd be Undyne the Undead, sir?”

“And hoooow many games has she won in the past five years?”

Burgerpants hesitated. He knew whatever answer he gave would be the wrong one, “...seven, boss.”

“Congratulations, Burgerpants! You're correct! That's how many our 'star' of the games has won! Each time! Without even trying!”

He sank in his seat, “But she's got good competition this year!”

“Who's that? The dog with the knife trick, another dog, and the magician?”

“We got those two gangsters over in Hotland! Tough Guy 1 and Tough Guy 2!”

Mettaton gripped his face in frustration, “BURGY....DARLING....That is exactly the same lineup as last year! Undyne ALWAYS crushes the hardest, meanest mutants in Underdome!”

“Gee, boss.” he sighed, “Maybe we could make Undyne wear weights the entire game so they all have an advantage.”

“....you could be onto something.”

One of the TV screens flickered as a sleepy voice came on it, “Hey boss, I know this isn't a good time but we got a problem.”

“It can't be worse than my entire series falling apart!”

Another voice chipped in, “Ignore him, sir, it's just an annoyance! I'll have it taken care of right away!”

“I'll assume you will either way,” Mettaton drummed his fingers.

Sans butted in, “Well. See. Something drifted into the reservoir.”

“We think it may be an unconscious monkey, expertly disguised to infiltrate the Underdome sir!”

“It's a human.”

Mettaton swiveled in his chair, “Oh...a human. How...interesting. How...unexpected. How...almost sexy.”

“Sir?” Burgerpants asked.

“Your idea's stupid, I just decided. Go backstage and...make sure it isn't falling apart.”

“Alright, I'm going,” Burgerpants shrugged.

Mettaton returned to musing, “A human...what a stroke of luck...”

“Yep. Sure is. By the way we've been hearing everything you said.”

“Words of genius, sir!”

***

The cat fished out his nip-cigs as he headed outside the Mettaton Palace. If he wanted to catch a sleep, he better do outside. In the trash.

And he was about to trash sleep when he caught the familiar cart parked in front of the Mettaton Palace. He groaned, “Back after the last time they threw you out with no permit?”

The rabbit smiled sheepishly, “I figure one more time wouldn't hurt.”

“Out of five.”

“What was that?” he offered one of the foil-wrapped confectioneries, “Here, have a Nice Cream bar! On the house.”

He slowly reached out, swiping it, “...I'll have it on my nap. THANKS.”

“You're welcome! How's your big break coming?”

Inquisitive bunny aren't you he thought, “Huh what? Ohhh YEAH. It's doing GREAT. Why Mettaton said soon he's gonna met me handle the show it's gonna be the...uh...” he hesitated, searching for his non-nickname name, “WE'RE WORKING ON IT!”

“That's great! We're both heading up in the dome, huh?”

“About as much as you can in the Underdome....”

“Mhmm!” he blithely nodded his head before his face washed over with a look of distraction, “...huh?” “What?” “Huh...it looked like somebody was getting around outside for a minute. Someone very small.”

Burgerpants looked around, searching for something as though he believed it before glaring at the rabbit, “...you need to get away from that cart. It's giving you radiation or something. Anyway GOOD NIGHT.” And he promptly fell into a pile of trash bags, his desert in hand. “It's always good when they use the less smelly bags...”

***

Frisk didn't remember much of what happened when they made the plunge other than it was cold. They saw nothing but the darkness of murky water around them. But seeing didn't feel so important as the suffocating, crushing cold around them. They just knew they had to escape from it. Frisk had been fortunate enough to roll down the window before, but they were still lost in the freezing darkness. The chill ate at them fast, an uncomfortable cold that got worse with each passing second. They could feel their heartbeat getting faster, their urge to breathe grow more intense. Frisk paddled as hard as they could, a task hard when your knowledge of swimming is rudimentary. They just knew they had to keep going, going against the harsh beat of their heart and their tightening lungs when--

Frisk broke the surface, a small toy on a vast bathtub. They sucked in huge gulps of air. Frisk didn't care where they were, just as long as they found something solid to land on. Luckily Frisk found a ladder leading to a hard slab of concrete floor.

For once, Frisk didn't think of where they were, just of getting some long-earned rest. It was strange, but as they fell asleep, they noticed how strange the sky looked, like it was murky and distorted. But it must have been their bleary eyes...

Their dreams weren't memorable, just a confusing blur of voices and shapes. Someone nudged them awake...Frisk rubbed their eyes. It was the cat from MTT Days? “Rise and shine, star!”

“Yeah, who's ready for their debut?” the alligator was right by.

Frisk, hesitant, tugged at the cat's face. Not a mask. Repeat: not a mask. The cat giggled, “Oh you're a handsy one!”

“Just keep it clean, Mettaton likes family-friendly violence.”

Frisk would have ran, but waking up and being so confused accepted the hands of the...monsters before them. This didn't feel like it was happening to them, but like they were reading a book about them doing this.

As Frisk got lead to the MTT Days set they saw on TV, they could see the audience. Cheering and clapping monsters of all species and shapes. They were all like this here, weren't they? Frisk wanted to ask for an adult for help, but much like the world they left, they were on their own.

“Beauties and gentlebeauties the MTTX-MLD-Games have had many guests, but for the first time we have a real live human being!” The crowd was loving it, loving them. Like they were a novelty. And right beside them as Frisk took a seat was Mettaton, the robot they saw on the screen. Frisk realized Mettaton was a robot as real as the rest of the creatures here.

"So human, how does it feel to be the first human contestant ever?"

Silence. How does Frisk explain they can't speak?

"Speechless I know. Give us a little about yourself, little darling!"

They thought for a moment before Frisk moved their hand. Obviously they might not read sign so maybe tracing the words in air would help...

F...R...I...S...K.

"F...L...A...S...K. Your name is Flask? Sounds...silly. Well you heard it from our enigmatic contestant! Thankfully our next contestant has more to say and guess what? He's a human too! Give it up for the one named Crone!"

Frisk's heart sank when they saw the old man stomp onto the stage, footsteps loud enough to drown out the cheers. Of all the humans to end up here...

"Well, thought you could run, huh kid?"

"Ooh! An interesting development! It seems our humans know each other!" Gasps followed in the audience.

He took a seat by a grimacing Frisk, "That's right. I picked up this kid when no one else wanted them, showed them the ins and outs of the food industry, and how do they repay me? By nabbing my Battle Station and driving it into a lake!"

"An ungrateful employee...we know what that's like! Right, Burgerpants?" Burgerpants shrugged. Mettaton returned to his guests. "And what brings you here...other than having the brilliant idea of not having not just one but two humans for the MTTX MLD Games?"

"That's easy, I foll--" he was drowned out by a long beep.

"So sorry, Mr Crone, but MTT policy states to never reveal the hidden routes to the Underdome."

"Since when?"

"Since...well, forever!"

"Okay, I got you. Can you tell me something else? How come I don't see any of you outside this...dome thing."

"That's a very easy answer, Mr Crone: we can't tell you!"

"I think I'm entitled to one real answer. At least tell me what the name means? MTTX MGS something?"

"Do you think we should tell him? Well...one answer wouldn't hurt! See, Mr. Crone, MTTX-MLD Games is the Mettaton Xtreme Murder Life Death Games! Isn't it just brilliant?"

The crowd applauded. Frisk began to feel real dread for the first time in their life..

"Wait...don't we get a weapon? A gun or anything? This...this is fake isn't it?" He tugged at the nearest mutant face. He scrambled back into his chair. Despite everything, Frisk was happy seeing Crone be afraid for once.

"Mr. Crone I just answered one question, I swear, you're so exhausting! Enough of these two, time for one guest who never wears me out~ You know them from their seven wins! They're big, they're bad! They're the star of bloodshed on the screen! They're the gladiator of the Underdome! Iiiiiiit's..."

They heard there clanking of metal before they saw it come onstage. While Mettaton looked elegant and sleek, this...this looked like a Frankenstein's monster of metal hotwired together, armor that sprung to life. Junk that turned harsh and menacing. And from its sharp, almost shark-like helmet Frisk saw a glowing eye. And the crowd was going insane. They loved it, almost as much as the humans loved Mettaton.

"Undyne the Undead!"

As the crowd roared, Undyne stopped with a factory precision to fix the two humans with a cold stare before taking a seat right by Mettaton.

"Look, Flask you and Undyne have something in common! Oh this is going to be a real exciting game! You won't want to miss a single moment this week so don't youy dare leave that TV set! We'll be riiight back!"


	3. An Anti-Climactic Race

Being thrown into this mutant murder game show was bad. It might have been a situation they could have almost tolerated, but Crone. Crone just had to be the other human human they fished out. The one human who scoffed at the show, who called it fake and now he thrived on the attention. He was walking about, making a big show for the humans watching outside. But Frisk knew the truth: they were terrified.

 

Undyne was the complete opposite. They made no sound save the heavy thump of their metallic feet on the ground and the barely audible whirs, huffs of air coming from their machinery at work. Most striking was that glowing eye, staring out with a single-minded purpose. Undyne the Undead...they were a big deal...they had to be the way MTT sold it.

 

Even the other contestants acted differently around Undyne: they never dared to stray near her. And they looked like a tough bunch. One dog-like mutant carrying knives gave a disgruntled growl, “We don't get a big introduction like the humans or Undyne...”  
  
Mettaton whirled round on their neon pink boots, clashing with their boxlike body. “Well, Doggo, darling, all the more incentive to win big for your victory show isn't it?”  
  
He thought for a moment as they headed out the door, “Yeah yeah yeah! I'm gonna win!”

 

Two mutants, helmeted with patchwork leather outfits scoffed behind him. Frisk's experience told them these mutants belonged to a gang. The one with rabbit ears scoffed, “Yeah just try bro, cause we're gonna roll over your dead body with our feet! Together! In unison!”  
  
“Yeah,” said the other with odd reptilian, batlike ears.

 

“Excuuuuse me,” Frisk saw that a small creature followed close behind. It looked like a kind of tiny scavenger in a black cloak and pointy hat. It grinned, “Mind your ps and qs!”  
  
The companion following them, an enormous set of armor almost rivaling Undyne. But with one difference: the huge unblinking eye in its stomach.

 

Frisk felt nervous about these games, competing against mutants like these. What kind of challenge waited for them? Coming outside for the first time since their arrival didn't help answer that. For the first time Frisk could see: an expansive dome, expanding further than any city they ever saw. They saw the metallic framework that was so subtle one could miss. It was...something they never saw before. On the ground was just as strange: snow. At least it looked like snow. And expanding over the hills and cliffs (cliffs?!) were trees, at least looked like trees.

 

Their first stop trudged to a large hill, one that overlooked this expanse of snow and trees. Frisk wondered if it was truly real. After all, they could feel the cold around them. What kind of place was this Underdome? It seemed to hold an entire environment, teeming with mutants. Despite the size and realism of this dome, Frisk knew they never saw a mutant outside the dome. Were they here by choice? Did the dome keep them here? Did the dome protect them? What was the dome?

 

Mettaton didn't help answer those questions as they returned to speaking to some unseen audience, “Aaand we're back! You met our contestants: Night Knight, Mad-Jick, the Tough Guys, Doggo, aaand out special guests the humans Flask and Crone with our returning champion Undyne! To think the MTTX-MLD-Games is on its very first leg! Who's excited?”  
  
“There's gold right?” asked Doggo.

 

Mettaton spun, pointing a gloved finger, “Whyyy of course there is! The gold sum is only a small part of the glory and accolades you win from me, Mettaton!”  
  
“Gold?” perked up Crone, “Now w'ere talkin'! I think out of everyone here we know I'm the best qualified to win, right Mettaton, buddy?”  
  
“We'll see,” said a distracted Mettaton, “Now this first game has been designed by none other than MTT corp itself! About a hundred feet in the air, five miles long, with plenty of twists and bumps for the ride it's the MTT-Sled ride! For this challenge we're having two pair up for this oh-so juicy sled race to the finish! And we encourage any means to win, right Burgerpants?”

 

Before Burgerpants spoke, he interrupted, “Ten minutes to pair up! (This is the best part of before the race).”  
  


“I know who's got my back,” Tough Guy One said, patting his reptilian pal, “Right bro?”  
  
“Wouldn't race with anyone else, bro,” said Tough Guy Two.

 

Mad-Jick nudged the creature Frisk assumed to be Night Knigh with their foot, “Pretty please?”  
  
Night Knight scooped them up as Mad-Jick acknowledged with, “Please and thank you!”  
  
That left three for Frisk. Crone motioned to them, “Hey there, runt. We got some bad blood with you leaving the job I so graciously gave you and y;know, you stealing my truck...but let's call this a second chance, eh you little gremlin? These freaks will throw you to the chum the minute they get the chance.”  
  
Frisk frowned, glancing around. Crone had a point, but...it was Crone.

 

“It's like before, kid. I'm your best bet for livin'. You got nowhere else.”  
  
Frisk hesitated, obviously distressed. But the anser came all the same. No. They turned from Crone, looking towards the other two monsters. Whatever happened, they wouldn't need Crone's help.

 

“...I get it,” he snorted, “You grew up and now you can make your own decisions. Well you can die on your own too. I won't even give you the one percent I was planning on giving—if you make it.”  
  
Frisk ignored them, looking between the mutants when Doggo ran into them, “Wan! Who's there?!”  
  
...they were right there. Did they not see them? Frisk waved their hand.

 

“Oh the weird dog! You appeared out of nowhere. Undyne wouldn't pair with you too huh? Guess I can let you come along.”

 

Frisk figured if they had to stick with a mutant, they'd choose a dog over Crone. The old man had already taken a seat with Undyne in the sled, sleds obviously made with a big square MTT face.

 

“...where'd you go?”

 

Frisk led them to the sled, waving them a seat in the...back. Frisk may have crashed a truck, but they trusted their own driving skills over Doggo's ailment.

 

“Well welly well well, it looks like all our contestants are paired up! And in a surprising twist its the humans facing off against each other. Who knows how this will end?”  
  
“We'll get an exact number of the gold we win, right?” called out Crone.

 

Mettaton patiently tapped his fingers before motioning to the field, “Ohbytheway! Four our surprise this year...we randomly placed secret electro-pads all over the course! Just one touch can bring a jolt~ Oooh yeah!”

 

Oh god.

 

“Thankfully the Dry Bones band is not present for any ill-timed puns,” he muttered to himself, “Burgerpants, the starter pistol please--”

 

Burgerpants shot it, jolting the competitors to a start. Mettaton wrung his hands, holding onto his professional appearance, “...and they're off!”

 

Mettaton signaled to some unknown eye before strutting to his assistant, “Burgerpants, dearest. Is there something you can do that won''t make my show an absolute disaster? You should go do it. Now.”

 

Firsk would say this was nothing like driving a truck, but once they realized gravity did the work and steering would be their job, it wasn't that hard. Well, they'll have to assess that after nearly colliding with the sled carrying Mad-Jick.

 

“Hello and goodbye!” he called from the sled. Frisk had to admire the skill they had in steering with their feet. That got overshadowed when Frisk saw particles launch themselves in the air. Particles? No, more like hundreds of tiny crosses. What did that have to do with magic at all? Maybe the Mad-Jick was just a coincidence. Doesn't matter since tiny toys started to rain destruction on them. Frisk heard the expected tink, one after the other like deadly rain.

 

What Frisk didn't expect was Doggo standing knives brandished, his hands a flurry of speed like they never saw in a human. Those streaks of silver that batted the little crosses away Frisk would guess to be knives. Frisk took the chance to try steering their sled away as Doggo nicked the onslaught away, getting a few cuts himself.

 

As they escaped Mad-Jick and Night-Knight, Frisk could only convey their amazement with wild gesticulating. How?  
  
“Huh? Oh. I see moving things. I kill 'em real good too.”  
  
Frisk supposed they should be grateful, showing gratitude the only way they knew how: through pets.

 

“Huh? Pet? When did dogs get to pet other dogs?”  
  
...Doggo really meant the 'weird dog' comment. It was better than being Flask, they guessed.

 

“It's lucky we're a team. We can stomp those two birds with one foot: the human and Undyne. Then I can get my long introduction!”  
  
Frisk decided to keep their attention to the task of steering.

 

***

 

Catty watched from her MTT Administrative Office as Burgerpants returned to the task of doing MTT Studios maintenance. The backstage security feed was a gift from Mettaton, just like the MTT-Honorary- Doctorates.

“God, I could like, watch him all day,” she sighed.

He alligator friend was filing her scaled on the desk across from her, “Don't get started, Catty. He's like, totally gross.”  
  
“Oh my god! I'm like, window browsing, I'm not making a purchase!”  
  
“Not like he's worth much gold.”  
  
“You're so bad, Bratty!”  
  
“Gives us something to do, right?”  
  
“Yeah, like all Mettaton gives us to do is like, push people around and play in his skits!”  
  
Catty leaned back, “...hey Bratty?”  
  
“Yeah?”  
  
“You ever like, think of why we didn't see any humans before today? Or why none of us ever left?”  
  
“That's easy it's because...” she thought on this, “Errr... next question!”  
  
“You think if these games go real good he'll like, let us see outside the dome?”  
  
“Well sure! He's been real generous so far! I mean...” she trailed off, “Hey, is that supposed to be there?”  
  
“What?”  
  
She pointed to her feed: up in the rafters in the lights, someone had managed to scale across them quick. All the while Burgerpants griped to himself.

 

“I don't see—oh there it is.”  
  
The figure flashed across the screen.

 

“Oh my goooosh...that's so weird. Should we uh...should we tell Mettaton?”

 

Bratty patted her lap, beckoning the cat, “Nah. Let's just...waste more time and get paid for it.”  
  
Catty slowly eased herself onto the alligator, both of them supported by the chair, the cat leaned in until her muzzle met with the other's muzzle.

 

***

 

Frisk should have known this wouldn't be an easy race. Several times the others got electrocuted as they hurtled down the snowy course. The multiple attempts of the others to run them off the road wasn't very encouraging.

 

But the worst of it came in the form of the sudden burst of fire coming from the surrounding trees.

 

“A favorite personal touch of mine,” Mettaton commentated from the comfort of his studio, “I just love having Burgerpants strap flammable materials to a few trees each year, it makes the race...interesting.”  
  
As it happened a flammable tree made its violent crash into the snow before them, making the way forward hard for both of them. Actually, they could end up dead if Frisk didn't find a way around soon.

 

“I got it,” said Doggo. He tossed a knife towards the burning log. Firsk stared as it fell uselessly into the flames. “...I thought it would cut it in two.”  
  
So much for that Frisk would have to try for the second best thing: banking as hard as they could. The end result made both of them make a graceless jump over the log. It was good news. The bad news came when they rolled over repeatedly. Frisk gripped the handles tight, feeling gravity tug at them from their seat. The ride ended with them sliding backwards, snow blocking their line of sight From this vantage point, it was impossible to steer.

 

Frisk brushed the blinding snow aside. Despite the mutants, the fact such dangerous fires blazed in a relatively closed space, and they were in these death games...it was the first time Frisk experienced something like this. The snow outside was too shallow to do anything during the winter. If they had to go sledding, this was a way to do it.

 

They felt something hit their face. It was water. Not a flood, but little droplets, coming from the sky. But how? It came down fast and heavy enough to put out the flames. The snow grew slushy from the miraculous rain.

 

“Oh my,” Mettaton observed, “The surprises just keep coming from your host!” The bot began to pace the studio as he phoned in on his cell, “Sans, Papyrus. Would you be a dear and tell me who scheduled the rain algorithm?”  
  
“That's the thing boss,” Sans replied, “Burgerpants didn't touch any of the controls and Bratty and Catty are uh...well.”  
  
“They were canoodling, sir! You deserved to know!”  
  
Mettaton pinched the imaginary bridge of his nose, “So we have a flaw in the system now. Lovely.”  
  
“I think it's less a flaw and more a on-purpose kind of thing.”  
  
“...then get to the bottom of it.” Mettaton's voice reached a heavy bass, “You'll take care of it by any means...by any means. I have a show to return to.”  
  
As he watched from his security room he watched the current drama unfold: Undyne's team swooping behind the other human, coming neck to neck.

 

Crone mocked, “I warned you, kid! Now you're gonna get it!”

 

Frisk gave their former caretaker a headshake and thumbsdown. Doggo brandished his knife, “Keep moving, human.”  
  
“That's one nutty dog, I gotta say. Now let's waste these fools and get this sled going! Does it go any faster?!”  
  
As he said this, Undyne wordlessly grasped Crone by the neck. Grasping for breath, he tried asking for an explanation. But Undyne had none. It was amazing how high Crone could fly into the air.  
  
What was more amazing followed next. With no expression, no movement Undyne stared at the screaming Crone until a blast of pure blue light ripped from their eye. As soon as it hit Crone, their was nothing but a burst of fire in mid air.

 

Just as wordlessly, Undyne steered round the two dumbstruck competitors.

 

Doggo spoke moments later, “That's Undyne the Undead, yep. The machine woman.”

 

Frisk, for the first time in their lives, pitied Crone.

 

Moments later the announcement came from Mettaton, “And the winner is, unsurprisingly...Undyne! Goes to show teamwork doesn't pay off! Followed by...Doggo and Flask? I guess anything is possible...”

 

Mettaton made a bitter laugh. By some saboteur they survived their deadly course. Only one human down and not the one he expected. Who was this Flask?

 


	4. Phantom of the Jeapordy

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for taking so long getting back to this, my inspiration took a dive with a new job and all

Frisk’s wonder and terror remained in a constant juggle. On one hand, this dome offered so many beautiful sights. Snowdin alone looked like an amazing achievement: a giant mountain environment sloping down from where the MTT Studios loomed high on the peak edge. If Frisk didn’t know any better, they’d say this was an intentional setup for the MTT-whatever death games. And before them more of Snowding extended over a cozy town, an actual town. Frisk can’t remember seeing buildings that actually looked put together. They remembered plenty of cabins with roofs long gone and walls caved in when they went to gather food, but this looked like an actual home. And beyond that? Well, it looked like a fog leading...someplace

 

That’s what scared Frisk. So much they didn’t know, like how they could get weather inside a dome. And the mutants who seemed to revel in the violence. And Crone, the bitter old man who died as nothing more than a footnote to Undyne. She was something else. Out of everyone here, Undyne scared them. They dealt with thugs and dangerous people before. Frisk learned that thugs like Crone usually had something to bargain with, something that was easy to goad them once you found out. But they watched Undyne, how they walked with such serious precision and a single-minded decisiveness. That was someone who had everything sealed into that metal body, someone who didn’t bother digging up things like feelings. And that was effective, seeing how they dispatched their own teammate.

 

It wasn’t all bad, they won the favor of Doggo’s shoulder. Doggo was skilled, but not dangerous. Frisk enjoyed being level with the other mutants for once. Looking around, they noticed Mettaton seemed to have long disappeared since they began their trek.

 

As they made their way into the oddly absent village they ran into the skeleton duo. They both gave off the vibe of people stuck in the wrong job. The smaller one waved, “Everyone having an ice day?"

 

Undyne’s eye lit up.

 

“Okay I get it,” he shrugged.

 

“No please!” Papyrus shook him, “He needs to learn his lesson! I can’t take it!”  
  
Undyne’s eye powered down.

 

Sans gestured to the largest home on the right, a wooden cabin resting quietly in the snow, “In here is our next game and your little place to crash for the night so uh, make the snowst of it.”  
  
Everyone shuffled forward, making no effort to groan, only making dirty looks at the skeleton.

 

“Okay, okay I get it...”  
  
“You deserved that, Sans.”

 

The sign said Inn and Frisk could tell Doggo was eager to get in from how fast he ran. “Oh boy, I can’t wait for the loads of bones that’s waiting for me!”  
  
As Frisk tried catching his wagging tail as they made it inside when Doggo’s tail dropped. Frisk turned around to see this was no Inn (whatever that was) or a place to sleep. They walked into the loudest-looking room with podiums, all carrying their names, and a giant spinning wheel decked with glowing lights in front of it.

Most shocking wasn’t Mettaton again appearing out of nowhere, but the skeleton hanging over the podium marked ‘Crone’.

 

“Weeeeell congratulations you lucky contestants for making it past round two! And especially two our two leads, Flask and Undyne! I have to say these games have brought such entertaining drama and it’s only day two! Flask’s father Crone returns to parent the wayward wild human but it turns out Undyne shows Crone who’s your daddy!”  
  
Frisk never frowned so hard before.

 

“Two humans down, one to go! Will they make it to the final round of the MTTX MLD Games? Remember, all contestants get a free t-shirt with their--”

 

The lights shut off. Understandably, some panicked. Mostly Madjick, “Please….” Night Knight had fallen asleep on them.

 

Mettaton sighed, “Ooooooof course…” Mettaton wheeled backstage. Frisk heard the exchange take place, “Burgerpants? You know I adore your work and all, but if you don’t get this power back on, you will have much much much much much more to worry about than a simple fryer and--”

 

The lights went on. Mettaton wheeled quickly to the stage, “Welcome back, viewers! Looks like there’s a storm brewing in the studio! But it won’t stop the game from coming to you humans at home!”  
  
Frisk glanced down: there was paper taped to Doggo’s back. Frisk quickly snatched it.

 

“Huh?” Doggo whipped around, “Did somebody touch me?”  
  
Frisk read the note: ‘Watch the spotlights. We’ll keep in touch.’

 

They felt only more confusion. It must have come from another contestant, but guessing would lead to a potential betrayal. They knew how it played out.  


“Now that we’ve fixed our...technical difficulties,” chortled Mettaton, “It’s time for the next game: Ask and You Shall Burgerpants!”  
  
With the name Burgerpants Frisk saw indeed that the cat monster was tied to the wheel, his eyes wide with fear. Mettaton continued, “Each of you will get an answer which you will get to answer in the form of a question! If you get it right, you get to throw it at this spinning wheel which holds our dear show assistant Burgy!”

 

“What did I do?!” the unfortunate wheel victim cried out.

 

“Ah ah no talking from the game pieces, everyone take your podiums and get ready to buzz in!”  
  
Frisk took the one that said ‘Flask’. Eventually Frisk would need to correct them. Again they found themselves next to the imposing form of Undyne. It was nerve-wracking, knowing this armored figure of silence managed to take out one human with a look.

 

They gave a weak wave as Undyne looked their way. Undyne’s ‘eye’ shrunk. Nothing happened and then: the mutant reached over, grabbing a piece of their podium and ripped off a chunk. Undyne rang in.

 

“First question goes to Undyne!” Mettaton whirled around, “Since you ring in first you get the easiest one! Who is the first king of Underdome that united the mutants when they were exiled here? Thirty seconds, darling~”  
  
Undyne moved her arm forward like a petrified log, one finger pointed to Mettaton. The robot laughed, “That’s technically correct! Alright, Undyne the Undead, you get a shot at a prize or bumping off Burgerpants! Let’s spin the wheel~!”

 

They watched as Mettaton pressed a button by his podium. In no time at all, the wheel picked up speed. Burgerpants turned into a brown-reddish blur in their eyes. All of them heard Burgerpants yelling for mercy. In just the same amount of time Undyne fixed the wheel with a hard stare and shot out that deadly blue laser to the wheel.

 

With a jerk it stopped, revealing a singed ear, dust and smoke blowing from where Undyne shot it. The cat on the wheel whimpered in pain, “This isn’t a good time, but I’d like a raise...”

 

Mettaton examined the wheel, ignoring his employee’s pain, “Lucky for Undyne our last champion, she got a pick of the Burgerpants meat and a prize in a gift card to Mettaton Prime! Order anything from Mettaton Prime because it’s the only place you CAN order!”  
  
Out of everyone so far Frisk felt more sympathy for the dog and the cat mutant, the cat especially considering how much he suffered. If anyone deserved to be free of this robot, it was the cat. Frisk raised their hand to press the buzzer. After all, Undyne answered right?

 

“Ah, Flask the human rings in unexpectedly again! Alright, Flask, you get to answer the question: ‘Who put us in the Underdome?’”

 

Frisk didn’t know this question. There was no way Frisk, a human, could possibly know this question. But given the prize, maybe losing wasn’t so bad.

 

Frisk thought for a moment and pointed to Mettaton. It might make sense?   
  
Something changed in Mettaton’s demeanor. First the fact Mettaton zipped right into Frisk’s face was a warning sign. Though they couldn't read that angular face, Frisk felt simmering anger behind it.

 

“Weeeell my dear little human fleshy friend Flask! You are a tourist here, in need of a desperate education so let me give you a free tidbit: you’re wrong. Wrong. Very wrong.”  
  
He wheeled back, “And each wrong answer is a point to the trapdoor! Thaaaat’s right, each podium has a secret trapdoor underneath leading to certain death for the loser! So watch those points! But let’s tell Flash what the correct answer is!” Mettaton’s eyes could practically stab Flask, “It was humans. Your kind put us here! You put us here and forgot about us! Not even we know where we are! Am I lying? Who knows, anything goes in the MTTX-MLD-Games!”

 

And the round of questions continued, with trivia mostly about Mettaton being answered by anyone but Frisk. Even Burgerpants, who had several weapons sticking around him and laser burns, seemed better off. Even the bones of Crone seemed better off. Nothing could save them and Mettaton knew it from that hand-tapping expression.

 

“Aaaalright next question: what--” it went dark again, “Burgerpants, really! I thought we had taken care of this!”  
  
“I’m tied up right now boss.” he groaned.

 

Frisk didn’t panic, just breath a sigh of reprieve. That feeling fled when a voice, coarse and filtered through several electronic layers.

 

“When I tell you to jump, jump. I temporarily deactivated the giant shredder under this house so you’ll need to slide as fast as you can.”  
  
Frisk had nothing they could do. It was a trap, but a definite one was waiting here. What choice did they have? Frisk only nodded.  
  
“Be brave, Flask. Braver than me. Jump!”  
  
The floor gave out under them. Jump was a great idea, if they weren’t already falling. It was pitch black with only the smooth thump of the metal to give a sense of direction. Without thinking they began to scoot as fast as they could.

 

Soon they heard another voice.

 

“Hey who is that? Is anybody there—ooooooh!”  
  
From that gruff, canine voice they knew exactly who it was. But there was no time for stopping. Another minute of sliding down the lights soon came on and they could see just where they were. Frisk and Doggo were moving down a massive tunnel, lit by expensive floodlights and a floor made of silver plates. Of all the metal they saw, it was the shiniest. It was like a massive imitation of Mettaton.   
  
A massive clunk sounded. The floor began to move. Frisk had an idea of what was happening. Shredder didn’t have a good sound to whatever purpose this thing had. The plates began to pop up. Frisk didn’t think, only beginning to curl up in a ball and roll forward.

 

Doggo’s footsteps sounded after them, their resounding speed catching up with even Frisk. Only until frisk hit a wall did they find a service tunnel at the end. Scrambling up, they saw Doggo fleeing a rapidly springing to life series of massive blades.  
  
Frisk tugged at their desperate grasping hand as he hoisted himself up into the tunnel. Frisk wondered why they needed the help when the view behind them filled with nothing but blurred silver and the roar of flashing blades.

 

“Wan...I missed it by that much. I guess we gotta go to the other part of the game through here now, huh?”  
  
Frisk glanced down the long dark tunnel, the distant wet air coming in from someplace else. Frisk nodded.

 

“I’ll carry you,” Doggo said as he scooped up the human on his shoulders, “Don’t fall off and hurt your head!”

 

***

 

Upstairs Mettaton felt a phantom eyelid twitching on his face. Three times someone interfered with the games today, and those were only out of the possible yet-to-be-confirmed cases. And now, Doggo and the human were gone. Day two and the game had begun to go off the rails.   
  
He whirled around, as though his crisis was a temporary storm. While the cameras remained on, this crisis was no crisis. Mettaton brought his hands together in a disingenuous smile, “We’re back beauties and gentlebeauties! And we got more surprises for you! It looks like our human friend and the dog contestant was the loser of this round, which puts Undyne in the lead once more!”  
  
Undyne looked unaffected by this.  
  
“Which leads to our new game: ‘Leave the Humans to Me, You Take the Dog’. In this one, the contestant who brings me the human alive takes over this next round! Undyne, we’re counting on you!”  
  
Undyne only gave a nod.

 

Mettaton gave a show business laugh before peeling a certain cat off his wheel contraption and dragging him outside into Snowdin.

 

“Burgy darling we have a saboteur. And if you want your next check to mean anything, you’ll weed them out just for me!”  
  
“...sure boss,” he swallowed, just glad to be off that wheel.

 

“If they want us to go off script, then I’ll have to give them a show unlike anything we’ve done before...”


	5. Hunter Part 1

As it turned out, making a show about a manhunt is just as riveting as one might expect. Mettaton sat back at his office, carefully watching the monitors as he quickly flashed between each square area of the dome.

 

“No...no...no….” lights flickered past him as he pulled out a faded card. He glanced at it, he saw it so many times before he knew what it said.

 

In such a delicate yet clumsy cursive it read: `Thank you for being a help and pal, we’ll see the fresh air again.’

 

Mettaton let it flutter to the floor, “Asgore, you sentimental fool. If only you knew what this dome did to you, what the humans did to us.”  
  
He leaned back, still watching each feed rapidly, it’s cold light over his robotic face, “That’s why I’m better at your job, I know how to make the bitter things sweet! But how frustrating...I am all but ruler to these humans yet I can never grasp it in my hand. I’m a king in all but in free--”  
  
His sensors picked up a flutter and the faint thwack against the wall. As he glanced back, bringing his search to a pause he saw the same note impaled to the wall. His arm stretched to pull it off. It was a new note, handwriting more bouncy but less legible.

 

“Hmmm,” he said, “’Someone has to make a king’? Someone—“ he resumed his flickering search, “Ohhh it’s almost like...wouldn’t that be a twist?”  
  
Mettaton felt amused as he quickly froze on one camera, “Ah...there’s our human star! For a moment I thought I lost you...”  
  
He gently took the note and ripped it up as he pulled off a phone from his desk, “Hello? Undyne darling! You know why I’m calling, I’m sending you the location right now.” He hung up, “No one is a conversationalist anymore.”  
  
Burgerpants, several floors away from his boss in the same manor, wondered what good skulking about in a basement would do. He only had a flashlight and there was hardly anything other than boxes of props from Mettaton’s other shows. It was glorified storage. Still as he searched around he felt an unease about him, the dark does make people uneasy.

 

But what’s more uneasy than a shuffling? The answer to that is a shuffling jerky shape making its way through the dark, coming towards him. The cat felt his hairs stiffen with the rigor mortus of seeing an unknown shape making inhuman moves in his direction. It was closer now, closer, Burgerpant’s voice rose on a crescendo. Closer, closer….

 

A mannequin.

 

Burgerpants was still shouting with horror but it was, unambiguously, a mannequin.

 

“Hey shut up!” the mannequin talked! For the brilliant thought of staying alive he clenched his mouth. It continued, “What you wanna get everybody down here? You idiot.”  
  
He objected as he saw it was a gnarly ratted mannequin, a dummy made for practice. Its mouth looked grungy and jagged with stitches running where they normally wouldn’t.

 

“Now kid,” it addressed him, “I see you, I see you every day getting pushed around by that hunk of junk. Every day he belittles you, throws you around, almost kills you! You don’t like that do you? Nod for yes.”  
  
Burgerpants was at a loss. But the sudden knife at his face helped clear up any answers. He nodded.

 

“Right! The thing is, no one really likes him. No one but these weird skinbags on the outside. So why is he popular?” He gave a look giving permission for talk.

 

“He’s...got money? Technical knowledge? Charisma? Loyal workers?”

“WRONG!” he spat, “He’s got power! His noodly arms and that weird heart gun thing he does...that’s power. But me? I got something better.”  
  
“...” Burgerpants wasn’t sure what the right answer was here.

 

“I got KNIVES!” a sudden barrage of knives appears around him, “I got rockets! And more importantly kid? I can’t die!”  
  
Burgerpants felt a tad bit of intrigue, “...I mean, I feel that way when Mettaton puts me through a humiliating shift but...what does this got to do with me?”  
  
“What’s your name kid?”  
  
He sighed, “Burger--”  
  
“Your real name! C’mon!”  
  
“...Greg.” he side-eyed.

 

“Greg. I got power, but you got two things I don’t have: arms and the real stuff—hatred.”  
  
“Um...” he wasn’t going to deny it.

 

“Yeah, I saw you. You know you don’t deserve this, that’s why he holds you back. But you know what, Greg? You could be better than he is! Way better! About five to six times better!”  
  
“Ok but that doesn’t answer my question.”  
  
“Yeah you I’M GETTING THERE. So Greg, I’m telling you all this because I want a partnership. I want us to work together in bringing Mettaton down. I know how to do it! I know how he hurts!”  
  
"Uh huh..."  
  
The mannequin gave a sigh, a sigh of a creature running out of time. "Wanna know something? Mettaton made your Nice Cream Bunny sign an agreement to keep more than 30 feet away from official 'MTT Property'. He's planning on buying his rinky operation up. What do you say to that?"  
  
“...what’s your name?” he sounded like he was rolling his options like dice.  
  
“--huh? Oh. Mad Dummy.”  
  
“Oh my god. Mad Dummy. Oh my g—Mad Dummy.”  
  
“FOCUS! Listen, I’m not looking for friends. What I’m looking for is much more powerful: allies. And I want you to be my ally, my partner. All you gotta do is say yes.”  
  
Burgerpants hesitated. What was he doing last? Looking for a ghost that wasn’t real? He sighed, lighting a cigarette. “Alright, Mad Dummy, I’m your partner.”  
  
“Good,” he smirked, a laugh rising out of him. Burgerpants joined in the laughter. He didn’t realize the dummy was slumped over until he felt something laughing inside him. He grew uneasy, but the laughs didn’t stop. Soon it rose into a scream.  
  
Frisk felt cold. It was dark, far darker than average as though someone turned out the lights on purpose. They were watching the dome sky as the dog bounded through the mossy floor beneath them. They noticed how much older this part of the dome looked, the panels darkened nearly rusted over from neglect. Wires hung from the done, almost like vines in a jungle, but the chill of Snowdin lingered.  
  
“Hey are you still on my back?”  
  
Frisk reassured by patting their shoulder. He gave a gruff huff in response. It had been what? An hour or so since their mysterious savior led them to a secret passage leading to this mossy junkyard. Nothing but garbage and the glow of flowers remained.  
  
All of this remained over their heads, all part of some machination they couldn't begin to understand. Like the vehicle outside, they seemed to be steering towards a mysterious horizon. Did they know? Did Doggo know?  
  
That’s when Frisk knew. They tugged at the canine’s shirt. They skidded to a halt.

 

“Wan?”  
  
The human scrambled down, getting to the feet of the dog mutant. They waved their arms until Doggo knelt at their eye-level.  
  
“What is it human?”

 

Frisk looked at them, this odd vision-based mutant that was someone they considered more than just someone out to use them...both here and outside the dome.

 

They motioned in the opposite direction of their current course. The message was clear. Leave.

 

“Huh? Really??? Out here? On your own?”  
  
The dog sounded so concerned..but they risked so much bringing them this far. They saw how Mettaton and the others operated, but the MTTX-MLD Games proved there wasn’t much room for innocent bystanders. Frisk wanted to spare them the pain of whatever Mettaton had in store. Doggo would have to go his own way...maybe never have to deal with Mettaton or Undyne again.

 

They saw how sad Doggo looked, how they were reluctant to leave. But like most dogs, Frisk insisted.  
  
“...human...I promise I’ll be safe. Now promise me you’ll be safe too.”  
  
Frisk, sad, nodded in turn, hugging the dog.  
  
Doggo hugged back, briefly before walking into the yonder before him. “Bye human.”  
  
Perhaps whoever waited for Frisk wanted them alone. They certainly felt alone among the moss and decaying vegetation among the garbage. But it didn’t bother Frisk as long as they saw the glowing flowers among the waste of this long forgotten place. In the distance they heard water. Frisk wondered...they arrived by water...perhaps…

 

They saw a familiar glow. A glow they knew before. They never saw it glow like it did now. It was that singular eye. And Frisk on principal knew already what was happening. Before they even thought, Frisk rolled out of the way of her sheering laser. They saw the smoldering remains of where Frisk stood moments ago.  
  
Turning back they could see the mechanical movements of their now pursuer. How eerie, that they couldn’t hear any noise coming from the cybernetic monster’s mouth. They didn’t feel any emotion in it as she pursued them.

In moments Undyne could catch up on foot. Frisk knew that was foolish. The sound of water, though not as close as they liked, they knew that was their best bet. Seeing the garbage and the moments before Undyne would see them again, Frisk uprooted the flowers nearby and dove between the piles of discarded trash.

 

Frisk couldn’t believe how awful it smelled, or the slimy feeling all around them, the truly stomach-churning feeling of garbage water. Nonetheless, they had to burrow deeper, elbows scraping against hard materials, soggy material threatening to squeeze them.  
  
But no matter how much garbage, Frisk could hear the subtle sheering noises of Undyne’s laser. She was searching, hunting them down. As they continued worming through the filth, they occasionally ducked their head from the garbage sea to listen. The sound of the water was closer. They could leaver this place behind!  
  
As their fortune as it, the head of one Undyne caught sight of them. Frisk’s blood vessels thumped with extra vigor. She moved fast, frighteningly with little resistance from her surroundings. Frisk wormed back into the garbage. They were so close, but everything around felt like it was getting warmer. Undyne’s laser weaponry must be working overtime. If she missed Frisk or merely got thwarted by garbage, it wouldn't be that way forever.

 

Bursting through the garbage at the sound of water, they ran. Undyne was now on their heels, disturbingly efficient for remaining fast. Yet Frisk could see the waterfall, the one leading from the stream and off into the dark. This seemed definite. If they followed it’s trail or maybe...maybe they may just have to jump. Undyne wasn’t relenting.  
  
At the river’s edge they found themselves, staring into the dark, with the sound of metal and hot weaponry searing everything with a look, it seemed as though there was only one option. Frisk took a step back, took a deep breath and…  
  
The thumping came to a stop, along with the heavy buzzing of the lasers.  
  
It was a shocking sight, but at this rate, Frisk’s threshold for shocking got very low. Undyne had stopped and now was looking out into the darkness. She seemed to pay Frisk no mind, as though her mission suddenly changed. Yet...Firsk scrutinized the cyborg and in the face plate they saw This eye didn’t tell the story of stolen emotions or a single-mindedness to kill. Rather they saw something suggesting they had something more: the desire to sleep. Like after so many years, so many missions it seemed to look...weary. And out in the end of the waterfall there laid something causing Undyne their personal sadness.  
  
Frisk wondered why they weren’t pursuing and then such a mindset changed into what caused a mighty cyborg to act like this.  
  
Realizing that Undyne had them in their grasp anyway, Frisk decided to get their attention with a simple knock and a wave.  
  
It was still unnerving how she turned her head slowly, that head covered by cybernetics. But talking to her might be preferable to actually putting up tiny fists to a metal-plated death soldier. They pointed to the yawning abyss. Frisk motioned with their hands ‘want to escape?’.  
  
She shook her head, left to right, a slow deliberate motion.  
  
Frisk paused. With a little calibration they motioned another question ‘someone...out there?’.  
  
Undyne remained frozen for awhile. She nodded, this time up and down. Frisk pried no further. They remained, watching the water tumble down into the void with no foreseeable end. The Undead had someone. But now it was just had, emphasis on past tense.  
  
Frisk hesitated. They hesitated but they outstretched their hand, unsure what they would get. Something much more heated than cool metal.  
  
They felt the lingering hold of a lonely cybernetic hand. Both held on, watching the water disappear.  
  
Just as wordlessly, Undyne let go. She disappeared back into the darkness of this abandoned jungle junkyard. Frisk was alone again.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for the long wait, life and stuff, but I do intend on finishing this piece!


	6. Midlife Questionaire

Frisk stared into that pit of darkness, their fists clenching and unclenching. While Undyne left, someone else would come after them. Someone always does, even before they came here. But more importantly there was something in the dark there, something that touched the cybernetics of that mutant called the Undead. Maybe it was only the past, maybe it was answers. Frisk wanted to find out for themselves.

They walked the edge, slowly holding their breath and fear before looking once into the sky and back into the infinite unknown and….jump. 

It was a long way down. All this time they only had bits and pieces of information of the true size of the dome. As they fell, Frisk got a shiver trying to conceive of the true depths this construction went. Worse, the sheer power and resources the people had to built this and for it to still be functioning. What did Mettaton say? That humans put them there? But why?

Their train of though became interrupted when they felt a sudden jolt, stopping hard in mid air. For a moment Frisk was sure they hit the ground hard. They weren’t sure what falling to death was like, so it could have felt like anything. As it turns out they were still alive, just floating mid air. Strike that, whatever force had them in the air now pulled them to the ground, letting them land softly in knee-deep water. 

Their eyes had to adjust but they saw what appeared to be two massive vents alternating currents right at the bottom of this waterfall, currently dripping overhead. Rather than risk being pushed into the air once more, Frisk decided to push beyond the waterfall.

Beyond the veil of wet distortion they carried no expectations for what they might find. All the more to their surprise when all around they found a disarray of tech thriving all around. Wires as massive as roots dipping into cave walls and the ground threaded boxes of blinking lights and vents which in turn hooked up to a mismatch of screens from huge to handheld, bathing the place in a sickly neon glow. The tech here may as well grown on its own like a yeast or a mold. 

Each one of the screens streamed unintelligible lines of numbers and text, hard for them to understand let alone read with the speed they passed. As they stared at the monitor, behind them they heard a clatter. Followed by a splash. Frisk turned quickly, expecting the noise to already have gone. To their surprise someone was still very much there and wet.

To Frisk the stranger looked like a squat creature, almost like a reptile—save for the metallic head (on second thought it wasn’t a head, it was definitely a helmet) covering their face, one with a sleek shine to it. It almost had the shape of a gull from the outside. Across the mutant’s shoulders was draped a cape, long enough to bundle themselves in times of insecurity like say meeting someone face to face. Frisk was surprised how they recoiled, stammering in a non-organic voice, “Ah-ah! I didn’t see—I mean, hiiii guest that I was totally expecting!”

Frisk waved. 

Once the stranger saw the threat passed, they relaxed their guard, “Oh right...Flask, was it?”

They corrected, no. F-R-I-S-K.

“Oh I-I’m real glad you’re alive,” despite the eerie quality to this electronic voice, Frisk heard something sheepish even nervous behind it as the mutant approached a screen, “Di-didn’t want the first human here to end up like...you know. It’s real lucky you came here di-did Doggo send you?”

Frisk shook their head and simply mimed jumping off a waterfall.

“What?! Th-that’s amazing you survived at all!” the mutant returned to fiddling with the screens, talking to herself, “You been through a lot...I’m so-sorry about your dad...”

Frisk shrugged. They didn’t want anyone feeling sorry for Crone. They began looking around the tech again while she was working. It all seemed so strange…

“What are you doing?” she asked.

They turned to air write again. What is this place?

“It’s what makes the dome work, keeping everyone alive.” she seemed to excited to have a chance to talk with someone again, “It goes everywhere. Everywhere...not even Mettaton knows about this.”

She began to go further down a tunnel shaft, “I...I understand if you don’t want to come. I-I can show you a safe house and th-th-that’ll be the end of that. You can forget about me.”

Frisk shook their head. They didn’t want that.

“You really want to hang out?”

They didn’t consider hiding for their lives hanging out, but for their sake, sure.

The tunnels seemed to stretch for miles, every bit of them latticed with a framework of tubes, wires, and metallic kiosks.

“I had nothing to do with the making of these...buuuut with some modifications of my own, I can control a great deal of the dome’s functions, you know..keep Mettaton on his toes.”

Frisk gave the mutant a look. What was her history with Mettaton? They motioned to her. Did he make her like this?

She shook her head, “It’s complicated. This is my own fault. Mettaton...he’s just...everyone’s problem. I’m just trying to do the right thing, you know?” Her eyes darted away.

It must have been an hour or so walking before they came to light shining through the tunnels. The mutant clambered up before offering Frisk a hand. It seemed they ended up in a basement long condemned, with the stairway collapsed and rotted away. From a pile of dusty clothes the mutant began to dig, producing a ladder, “Here. We gotta use this, cl-climb out the window.

She stopped Frisk halfway, “First you need to pass unseen. Take this disguise. No one will know it’s you.”

She handed Frisk bulging eyeball glasses with a fake nose.

Even in the full light of day in the dome, it felt cloudy. The glass of the dome still stretch impossibly high above their heads. But the horizon below and before them was just as impressive. From their window perch they could see the full extent of the dome.

Frisk saw they were on the sill of an old building, possibly decades old, of some cement make. Around this building there stood others like it: tall, rectangular. All of them were connected in some way either by roof or by staircase. Standing above several buildings were great screen billboards, just like the ones from the outside. They say the city around them expanded like a bowl-like hill, with buildings like it stretching into the distance. 

Further than that, Frisk saw the range of jagged mountains and snow and forest, at the edge of that stood several expansive lakes and ponds. Frisk was no judge of distance, but from the height and distance they would have guessed the dome could take a whole good countryside. They could have driven in a night at full speed and still wouldn’t have made it halfway. Yet by some grace of their friend’s tunnel’s they made it in less time.

“I know,” she told Frisk, “It’s pretty small.”

Frisk merely nodded. From squinting Frisk saw a purple-greenish building on the edge of the lakes. The tugged at the mutant, pointing at it.

“That’s the MTT Mansion. Weren’t you there?”

They nodded. Frisk still didn’t understand what they were doing here, what all this was. But they ended up traveling from one end of the dome to the other. Of course, the question remained, would they ever leave? Would they be able to have a life outside of the dome?

They came down at the street level which they found extremely crowded. Frisk bumped into a horse beast, met with a glare before they muttered to the mutant, “Watch your kid.”

Frisk looked around, no mutant reacted with fear or panic. Did...did her ‘disguise’ actually work? They seemed to quickly move with the flow of foot traffic when they heard the familiar static of the TVs. The mutant froze, even if most continued their routing with clusters of fans gazing at the screen. Frisk turned to watch as well.  
Mettaton, though he had no face, betrayed an aura of chipper aptitude this time.

“Good afternoon beauties and gentlebeauties! After a cliffhanger where our protagonist Flask DIED, we’re back on the air! What new surprises will we bring? What say you, Burgerpants? Oh yes...that’s right. He’s been shirking work for the past week. Weeeeell in the next five seconds Burgy will be fired starting...five seconds ago! Aaand he’s fired!”

Words appeared on the screen: YOURE FIRED BURGERPANTS. Confetti and a Burgerpants effigy dropped from the roof as Bratty and Catty came out to celebrate.

“The day we all waited for is here! Who wants a swing!”

“Me! Me!” Bratty took the bat, closing her eyes as she cleaved the effigy in two, spilling candy onto the floor. 

Mettaton laughed. “Oh we have good fun, don’t we? But you must be asking ‘who will be our new Flask now’? Put your fears aside, my beauties and gentlebeauties for we have a face who’s a little familiar, a little new. Give it up for your new and improved...Crone!”

Frisk’s heart dropped. It wasn’t a cruel joke this time around. They couldn’t believe it when they saw on screen the old man or what was left of him. He wheeled in on what what were literal cybernetic wheels in place of hands and feet. His body was a sleek chassis with mounted twin rocket launchers from the looks of it. His face was all but covered with a black cybernetic mask. He wheeled on all fours slowly, groaning bitterly to himself.

“Or should I say...Chrome Dome?”

“Auugh,” he raised his head to Mettaton, “Why couldn't you just let me die, you metal--”

Catty yanked on his harness, “Bad kitty! No treats for you!”

“Isn’t Chrome Dome just adorable? But he isn’t our only guest in our preliminary-to-final game” ‘Therapy With a Killer Robot!’” The audience seemed to burst into applause.

The mutant with Frisk scoffed, “He keeps changing formats. How can anybody watch this trash?”

Mettaton continued, “Join me with my special guests:” Lo and behold, on two gurneys they were wheeled in. The mutant’s eyes went from half-lidded boredom to alarmed, “Undyne the Undead and...a dog? Doggo? Yes that’s it, Doggo!”

Both struggled in their chairs as they were wheeled to their places below the neon ‘Therapy with a Killer Robot’ sign. Mettaton steepled his hands, turning to Doggo, “I can tell you’re just a bundle of issues! For one, you can’t even see me if I stop moving isn’t that right?”

“Uh...no...” he said, not confused at all.

“What a conundrum it must be for you, waking up each day! That aside, didn’t you help the little human Flask run away from the game?”

“...wan?”

“You clearly clearly clearly must have a memory problem too if you forgotten the point of the game: there is only ONE winner.”

Doggo was about to speak up before Mettaton muzzled the mutant, “I’ll get back to you...on to our other contestant, the surprise heel turn of the game: Undyne the Undead!”

She said nothing. It didn’t feel like her regular silence, but a forlorn defeated quiet.

“Our dear beloved many-time champion. Known for her ruthlessness, her inability to empathize, seen here just scorching dear Chrome Done with a look!...and there you were, dallying. Dillying Sightseeing with the human Flask. Can you explain that, dear Undead?”

Silence. Mettaton whistles, pressing a button as gallons of ice cold water was dumped on her. She grunted, wincing as it slowed her down, sparks flying from her armor.

“It was lucky Flask flung themselves into the big nothingness wasn’t it?” Mettaton laughed a big ugly laugh, turning towards the camera, “There you have it, audience. We have two major basket cases! And you know what that means? That’s right, it’s time for the final game of the MTTX-MLD-Games! ‘Dysfunction House’!”

Bratty and Catty took the stage in new doctors digs, Crone in tow, “Our contests will be staying together for one day in the MTT Happy House, the only recently certified mental health facility in all of the Underdome! Overseen by our definitely psychiatrists, Bratty and Catty! You’ll take good care them, won’t you?”

“Oh you bet,” Bratty said, taking a drag.

“Winning this game is simple: you simply...get better or die! The winner gets a clean bill of health, the championship, and their lives!”

“Does that mean I’m out?” asked Crone.

“Oh you’re going,” he pointed at the new cyborg man, “And joining you are your other mental patients: Madjick and the two Tough guys! Only one will make it out, you won’t want to miss it!”

The two ‘patients’ were rolled offstage, Crone wheeling in tow. Mettaton remained at his desk, giving a congratulatory finger gun to the screen.

Frisk could see the audience going into a frenzy. More importantly, they could see the masked mutant shaking with anger. She turned to Frisk, “...if I hadn’t helped you….she wouldn't be in this mess...”

She? Frisk looked to the screen, back to the mutant. Ah. Ahhh. The dots came together. This was the someone Undyne was alluding to. This seemed like a horrible time for coincidences.

“All I need to do is screa--”

Shhhh. They put a finger to her mouth. Shhh. Once she calmed down, Frisk began to air sign. I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to get in the middle of all this. But if you turn me in then that’s one more Mettaton can add to his game. There’s still a chance to get them out of there. There’s still home.

She heaved, staring at the human before sitting down, “Ah...I’m super exhausted. I haven’t slept in days...but….” she looked at Frisk, “It’s a long shot...but I know where this Happy House is. It’s gonna be hard...” she trailed off, “I watched these games for so long and...I thought if I just gave her an advantage, that would be enough to keep her safe. But that’s not enough anymore. I want this to end.”

Frisk smiled, nodding. They were with her.

She laughed, “Oh my god, we’re basically rebels now. I mean, I was a saboteur, but I’m a rebel now. It’s...oh wow I need a nap.”

They looked to the horizon, the length the dome went. They might need a nap as well.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for keepin up with this work, those who read it!


	7. Welcome to the Chromedome

 

Outside the Underdome people’s lives continued...most people’s lives. Several folks kept congregating around the screens and Food Chariots, watching with growing confusion and the show continued to change formats.

 

“It’s only been four days,” said an older woman of many blankets as she shuffled in line to the Food Chariot, “How many times can they change the show? I don’t know if I can keep up if that Mettaton dude keeps switching things up.”  
  
“Relax,” assured a young girl in a cap next to her, “Undyne’s gonna win. He knows that everyone is onto the fact that Undyne is his undisputed champ. So what does he do? He throws in all this stuff to distract us like the two blokes out of costume, the Burger Guy that went missing...”  
  
“Yeah that’s what got me thinking this whole thing is fake,” cut in a scraggly bearded man, “I mean, I’ve seen that man before: he’s that Crone guy. Real greedy. I mean, if Mettaton is bringing in anybody for his show, then he must be real desperate.”

 

The blanketed woman scoffed, “As long as good old Undead wins. I got my whole home riding on her!”

 

The trio’s conversation got interrupted by a commotion of five men dragging themselves into the gathering. They looked dirty, sweaty exhausted.

 

“Hey look!” the bearded man said, “I know them! It’s the guys from Crone’s Food Chariot!”  
  
Not many paid attention, but the fact one called out their name raised the heads of people in food lines. One of the crewmen panted, “We’ve been lost...for days now...great big lake…Crone’s brat took our Food Chariot. There’s..there’s something out there! Whatever it was, it took Crone and the brat!”  
  
“Yeah, if only we were so lucky,” scoffed the young girl.

 

“No listen!” pleaded the crewman, “It’s holding them captive! We have to go find them! The dome is real! I think they’re in real danger!”  
  
The crew was met with jeers and boos. “You’re just jealous!”  
  
“His acting isn’t as good as Crone’s for one thing,” said the blanketed woman.

 

“Just where is this dome then?” asked one of the people.

 

The crewman rubbed the back of their head, “...I...I can’t remember.”  
  
They were met with a rumble of ‘right’ with their pleas being drowned out by murmurs and boos.

 

***

 

Frisk did their best to distract the mutant during their journey to the Happy House. Oddly Mettaton’s games weren’t as sadistic when they were centered around Frisk. The residents of the Happy House were subjected to long stretches of competitive ‘how well do you know the other person’ games between Undyne and Doggo (Doggo won that one surprisingly) and trivia games about Mettaton.

 

There also came the live ‘psychological evaluations’, all of them just an extended excuse for Mettaton to mercilessly rip into his contestants and expose their psychological demons. Frisk learned more than they wanted about Crone. The masked mutant glanced at Frisk every now and then during that. They would have been relieved for it to end except...Undyne was next. They bit their lip, seeing the mutant get agitated as Mettaton got deeper on the screen.

 

“Dear Undead, surely you have someone in that place where you once had a heart? What do you say folks? Lost family...lost home...lost love?”  
  
Undyne shifted uncomfortably.

 

“Beauties and gentlebeauties of the Underdome, you wouldn't believe this but back when I met Undyne when she was the Living, she was a motormouth! She wanted so much to be a hero, it was adorable! What happened to that Undyne?”

 

From the way Mettaton draped himself over the desk, arms wiggling he seemed content with himself. That is, until he heard something hoarse resound from that suit of armor, “You.”  
  
Mettaton pushed himself from the desk, “What was that? I thought I heard a pipe break.”  
  
“You happened.”  
  
For a moment, only a short moment, Mettaton looked completely perturbed. He raised his robot arm, dismissing her with a laugh, “Incredible! The Therapy with a Killer Robot Therapy is working! After years of silence, Undyne the Undead has broken her silence!”  
  
Mettaton leapt from the desk, snapping his fingers. In came Catty and Bratty. The robot waved to the screen, “Well that’s enough excitement for Undyne, you can’t rush these things you know! Tune in as I dig into the Tough Guys and their psychological wounds!”  
  
The masked mutant watched the rigged screen in the tunnel as Undyne got dragged away in her strapped gurney, hoarsely whispering “You...you...you...”

She quivered her mouth. Frisk reached out before she turned to them, “...he wasn’t always like this, you know. But like everything else, I screwed it up.”

 

Frisk wanted to ask, like so many things about this place that adults here left frustratingly vague but she spoke again, “...I never mentioned who I was, huh? You-you can call me Alphys.”  
  
Alphys. Undyne...together they make a fitting couple if at least in name. Frisk gave a thumbs up. They liked it. Alphys moved forward, her confidence rising from that exchange it seems, “C-come on, it’s just around the corner.”  
  
The tunnel went up into a divot behind a rock. What Frisk expected to see of the Happy House, they weren’t sure. But when they both popped their heads into the fresh air, the mutual shock apparent on both faces spelled out what kind of mess they just got into. The Happy House looked nothing like the mansion Frisk imagined, not at all. No, rather it looked closer to the white columns Frisk saw from the scraps of garbage and worn murals from the Food Chariot excursions. Those came from an old world and from looking at them those relics felt older than those worlds themselves. That’s what the Happy House felt like: a part of the Underdome relic, but much older than it.

 

But infused with it was the handiwork of Mettaton, several pink and black buildings in the shape of a shoe, all of them interlocked together. The strangest feature of all though was the strange orbs floating around the house like suspended snow. They floated, black and white with cores of a cross shape.

 

Alphys ducked back down, “Mettaton has his own trick up his sleeve...oh aww jeeze….ok maybe if I redirect the lasers back from the t-tunnel...”

No not good. That would automatically give them away. Frisk grabbed their arm, begging her to give them a moment. Alphys, reluctantly, stopped.

 

Pressed for time, Frisk squinted when they saw above the house a tiny pinprick. Squinting they could see...Mad-Jick? Oh...it was them. Frisk remembered them from the race and considered if since they could befriend Doggo and Undyne...maybe there was a chance for Mad-Jick.

  
Moving one hand from behind the outcropping where they exited, Frisk waved. Soon Frisk moved their head to find Mad-Jick right by them.

 

“Please and thank you!” he beamed. Ok good start.

 

Frisk signed in the air. How are you?  
  
“Thank you. Please please,” Mad-Jick gave a solemn nod.

 

Alright, dumb question. Frisk pointed to the Happy House, then back to themselves. The human gave a questioning nod of approval. Perhaps they could go in?  
  
“Hmmm...” Mad-Jick swirled around them, spinning with greater intensity before flying off, away from the house with a thank you. Frisk waited to see if they would return, but to their surprise they never did. The strange lights faded in intensity, remaining only in one place.  
  
Alphys rose from her hiding spot, “What did you do?”  
  
Frisk shrugged.

 

The small mutant trudged onward, quickly motioning them along, “Come on. We gotta be quiet.”  
  
  


***

 

The cymbals clashed loudly and even louder once Bratty tossed them to the floor. Dinner was ready. Mettaton gathered at the head of the table, dressed in his resplendent sparkly suit. Along his long table at the guest dining room of the Happy House there sat his guests and faculty: Undyne in her gurney, Doggo in his chains and muzzle, Tough Guys one and two in their ropes, Bratty and Catty side by side with their pet Crone on the leash. The last to come would be Sans and Papyrus, passing around their dishes: spaghetti and hot cat.

 

Mettaton made a disgusted sound, “...don’t you two know how to make Glamburgers?”  
  
Sans slumped in his chair, already sleepy, “Sorry boss, that was more the Burgerkid’s thing.”  
  
Everyone murmured in agreement. Mettaton sighed, lifting the plate and dashing it on the floor, “Dinner, Chromedome!”  
  
“But boss!” cried Papyrus, “I made that special for you!”  
  
“Bro,” assured Sans, “He’s a robot, he doesn’t need to eat.”  
  
Mettaton sighed, “It’s a shame Burgerpants left hid job, so many things are falling apart without that ungrateful lazy cat...but we’re here aren’t we? A family of sorts.” Mettaton paused, “I never really had a family...except for Asgore. But he was more of a father to all of us..”  
  
“Yeah, bless King Fluffybuns,” said Sans, yawning.

 

Mettaton turned with an edge that could cut air, “Yes. Bless him. He gave everything for us, Chromedome. Did you know this dome was nothing but a container for our kind when we first arrived? “  
  
“Fuck this is news to me,” said Bratty barely audible.

 

Mettaton rolled over to Chromedome, eating miserably off the floor, “He organized and gave us hope. But in the end it poisoned him, humankind poisoned him.” He scooped the spaghetti...and dunked it on Chromedome’s faceplate, “And you would do that too, if you had the chance dear old Chromey. But that’s why I’m the face of the Underdome! I know how to fix the poison of humankind. Poison can’t be destroyed but it can be managed darling.”

 

“Not if you’re a chemist,” mumbled Sans.

 

“You’re a lunatic is what you are, a meglomaniac--” cried Crone

 

Mettaton returned to his seat, glancing at Undyne, “Takes one to know one, darling. I know exactly how you felt, how you must still be feeling ever since you arrived, dear Chromedome. You must feel like this is a dream, a dream that ruined the wonderful simplicity of how you saw the world. And that’s the truth of it, darling, what’s real never can make sense to most of us. That’s why mutant and human alike crave my show...they crave something that never confuses or hurts them, something that will feel more real than the lives they live. It gives them peace of mind, that reason to live. And I’ll keep giving it to them!”  
  
The dinner table sat in stunned silence until Catty broke it with weak applause, “Beautiful speech, Mettaton!”

 

“Outdid yourself this time, boss.” Bratty agreed.

 

Mettaton made a pleased noise, “Yes, I hope Papyrus was taking notes I really want to use that again, perhaps when Undyne and Crone have a final showdown. Speaking of notes,” he snapped his fingers, “Sans, any defectors in our midst?”

 

“Just some Flask fans,” said the skeleton, “Wouldn’t worry about them, they’re mostly just kids or some outcasts.”  
  
“And they won’t be a problem so long as you keep an eye on them, dear~” Mettaton sing-songed, “If only you could find that lousy Burgerpants.”

 

“That’s the thing, boss. He vanished. Either he died in an accident or he doesn’t want to be found.”  
  
The robot tapped his table impatiently, “How utterly silly of me, expecting you could perform your job dear San--”

 

“Boss,” Sans interrupted.

 

“What.” he hissed.

 

He waved his hand in the air, “Something’s up. The defense grid’s weakened. Like someone tampered with it.”  
  
Mettaton rose from his table, “...I knew it. I knew it. I knew knew knew….knew it.”  
  
“Mettaton has gone haywire!” gasped Papyrus.

 

“No, darling,” he rose, “It appears an old friend has finally shown their faces. I suspected there was someone meddling with the dome’s systems for some time but now? I know just who it is. Why, it’s none other than the long dead Alphys!”  
  
Undyne jerked violently in her gurney. “No.”  
  
“Oh yeeees. This drama is going to be delicious, reunion between maker and machine, between friend and friend. The showdown where Undyne will prove herself as champion! Bratty, Catty bring Chromedome and Doggo as understudies. We’re going live soon!” He raced down the corridor, “Here’s where the show gets real spicy!”  
  
  


***

 

When Alphys and Frisk entered the Happy House they were nearly blinded by the sheer white of the corridors. The interior seemed to stretch into winding stretches of hallway after hallway, built to confuse and madden anyone who took residence in there.

 

Yet with Alphys’ guidance, given her experience with navigating complicated layouts like this before, they only hit a couple dead ends. Frisk felt they could relax when they heard a terrible whir forward.

 

“Frisk Frisk Frisk,” it was the mechanical monstrosity that was formerly Crone.

 

“Your name is Frisk?” whispered Alphys.

 

The cyborg wheeled in circles around the two, “You can leave, Alphys. Mettaton is eager to meet you. But you...and me. I doubt very much that Mettaton knows you’re alive...maybe the audience does in which case surpriiiise.”

 

Frisk nudged Alphys away, “But--”  
  
No buts, she had to leave. Alphys didn’t understand, but she gave a soft hug to the human before running off.

 

“Aww how nice of you to let her run off like I was already going to do,” mocked Crone. His wheeling grew slower, almost predatory, “This is on you, Frisk. I did my best to raise you, show you the value of hard work. But you never listened. And now look what you done to me! You made me a monster like the rest of them.”  
  
Frisk looked back on their life with Crone, how from the moment they were picked up by the con man they were just a cheap worker. And in the past Frisk blamed themselves for the hardship Crone supposedly endured, but no. Frisk barely escaped with their own life, let alone fight for a full grown man’s. They signed to them. No. Your fault.

 

“Oh I see. The spotlight’s gotten to your head. Now you think you’re too good for Crone. Well, don’t you worry.” He motioned to the rocket launchers on his back, “When I’m done, you’ll be a monster like me and the rest of those nasty beasts.”

 

Frisk heard the first subtle hiss and immediately leaped, tucking and rolling. The impact shook them, sending them rolling further, leaving their ears ringing. A huge hole in the wall had been taken out, fuming and smoking. Frisk would take this opening, leaping through the wall.

 

“Oh that’s just not fair!” he shouted, “Get back here you drain!”

 

They could hear the squeaking of the wheels close by. Another hiss and Frisk covered their ears as a nearby wall exploded into rubble. Another hiss and another. Frisk looked back through the smoke and disaster to see that Crone wasn’t too far behind.

 

He laughed, “There you are, vile brat. Better hope you can run like that forever! Cause when I--”

 

The cyborg’s rant was replaced with a scream and a crash as Frisk turned around to see the man clatter over like a beetle to the ground. To their surprise a familiar dog mutant had tackled the man.

 

“Get off me you disgusting dog!”  
  
Doggo grunted as he strained to twist and snap off the rocket launchers connected to his back.

 

“Aaagh damnit! Those were my only selling point as a competitor!”  
  
Frisk ran up to them, opening their arms. Doggo swept them up into a hug. The human noticed the muzzle around their face. Carefully, Frisk removed it. Doggo grunted, “Thank you, human kid. Sorry I didn’t get to human man sooner.”  
  
Frisk shook their head. It was understandable. But now they had a friend to get to, Frisk tugged at his shit, “Wan? No we got to get you out of here.”  
  
Before Frisk continued to argue a voice filled the building, synthesized and melodious. Mettaton. “Well well well well. What a twist, Flask the human is actually Frisk! And they’re actually alive! Looks like Chromedome thought he could get a cut on the returning lead before anyone was the wiser but it looks like once again Chromedome will be out of the game. Only this time...permanently.”  
  
“No! Please!” yelled Crone, “I got some other--”  
  
“Oooout~ Now for Frisk and the Doggo, it’s time for them to reach the showdown between our ultimate contender Undyne the Undead and our special surprise guest the Phantom of the Dome! Who will come out on top, come see in the game therapy room to find out!”  
  
“I know where that is!” with Frisk on Doggo’s shoulders they raced off to the game therapy room, the same they saw on the screen much earlier. They could only wish that Alphys nor Mettaton did anything stupid.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Getting close to the end folks, can you feel it? Thanks for sticking around so far


	8. Hunter Part 2

They arrived just in time, or maybe time was never an issue in Mettaton’s machinations.Frisk’s eyes darted between Alphys on the right, Undyne on the left, and Mettaton in the center. In the back there was Papyrus and Sans in the Dry Bones band with Bratty and Catty in the other corner. Were it not for the dire circumstances, they’d assume it was a normal game show with a killer robot.

 

“I miss kitty,” Catty said folornly.  
  
Bratty consoled, “There there we’ll get you a new kitty.”

 

Mettaton rolled his eyes, “Well here we are. So close to the finale, all the players gathered together for a round of: fight your friends! Will they do it, will they fight your friend?”

 

“Just let her go, Mettaton...please?” begged the masked mutant.

 

“Awfully demanding for someone who made some toys and then just left when everything fell apart.”

 

Alphys shook her head, “Tha-that’s not fair….”  
  
“Ohhh there’s many things not fair, Phantom. Like being left to pick up the pieces of a dome and salvaging everybody you betrayed~”

 

Frisk looked to Alphys what was he talking about?

 

For once the robot got the gist of her signing. “Ohhh yeees Alphys, what am I talking about? Do tell.”

 

She frittered with the game desk, sinking with her face to its level as she avoided eye contact.

 

Undyne turned her head to look at Alphys. The fearsome cybernetic warrior that everyone feared now had a look of confusion, pain, sadness. Alphys wanted to hate seeing that, but seeing her face to face, seeing the hint of her emotions shine through that helmet...it gave her the pang she always felt seeing her, but stronger.

 

She breathed deeply, “When King Asgore got sick...too sick to recover...I wanted to save him so bad. S-s-so I thought if the technology that made Mett--” a buzzer sounded.

 

“Oops,” Mettaton said.

 

“P-p-please can I continue?”  
  
“Carefully,” Mettaton leaned over.

 

“...anyhow. With the technology I used for robots...I thought I could use the technology to give Asgore a body after his death...” she sobbed, something that sounded odd with her voice box, “But...the energy used to try and bring back a dead body was too great...it created a chain reaction and exploded...nearly destroying all of the waterfall part of the dome. It scarred me...I-I-I was too ashamed to f-f-face anyone after that….s-s-so I hid. Now you know. I’m-I’m good for nothing. I’m sorry.”  


Mettaton clapped his hands, “There you have it, Undyne. She failed and she deserted you! Left you all alone to fend for yourself...until I gave you the body I used from her blueprints. Everything that happened to you is her fault! Oh the drama of it all!” He unstrapped the gurney, releasing Undyne “I understand if you need to vent on her for a little bit, maybe on Frisk too! Isn’t this drama juicy?!”

 

The powerful cyborg mutant stomped forward, silently like a stone wall. She stared down at Alphys, hard and unreadable again. Alphys cowered, fearing for the worst. Mettaton steepled his fingers.

 

“...you’re alive.” her hollow voice resounded.

 

She nodded, “Ye-yeah. I’m sorry for not telling you sooner.”  
  
A pause. “Sorry. For looking like this.”  
  
“Wh-why?” she snorted.

 

“Not how I was.”  
  
“Excuse me,” Mettaton interrupted, “Undyne I believe you’re supposed to kill each other hmmm?”  
  
Alphys shook her head, “Are you kidding? I love robots, look how I look.”

 

“Undyne...now….” he hissed.

 

Undyne went silent. Her head sunk. “But...I love her.”

  
“Alright!” Mettaton sighed, “Another twist in the game! Our contestants are unwilling to fight! But here comes the biggest surprise of all, there’s a new contender: ME. Can our competitors handle the sheer audacity and terror--”

 

Alphys dove in, hitting his back. He seemed to have slumped over. Frisk looked befuddled by what just happened.

 

“...did you really think I wouldn’t change that button?” asked Mettaton, “Are you that stupid? Now...without any further ado...let’s make your final moments absolutely beautiful~”  
  
With a whirr and a series and clicks the group watched as the most glamorous pink legs began to extend from the box-like frame, followed by a more curvy torso with the masterpiece of a robot face bearing oddly perfectly coiffed hair popping out. He struck a pose at the stunned group.

 

“How did he fit all that?” asked Doggo.

 

Alphys cursed, “...still u-using my designs huh?”  
  
“Darling, I improve on them. Will it make you happy to know that you’ll be executed by them?”  
  
“No...”  
  
Mettaton shrugged, raising his noodly robot arms in the air when a voice resounded from the television, “Ugh. Boring Trash. Is that the best you can do? You really ran out of ideas you clunking piece of junk.”  
  
Mettaton looked aside to Alphys mouthing ‘is that you?’. Alphys shook her head. Metaton whirled to the screen hanging in the back of his game room, indignant, “Excuse me? I just did a glorious transformation scene on live TV! We’re not an open hotline show when I last remembered...Sans, who is this upstart?”  
  
“I dunno, he sounds pretty familiar though.”  
  
Making an indignant huff, he flipped toward the screen, searching his memory before squinting, “...Burgerpants. I thought I told you you’re fired! What are you doing toying around with MTT property?” he motioned to Bratty and Catty to go off camera.

 

“Sorry Metababy we’re doing this live! No more awkward cuts to commercial for you!”

 

“Oh hey I wondered where he was,” Catty said.

 

“Burgerpants...darling...if you keep this up, I will cut your severance package.”

 

“MY NAME...” the voice grew louder, “IS NOT BURGERPANTS...that man is dead! We’re a new man! Face it, Metta, this show is going in a new direction! MTT Days is old news!”

 

“Uhh whoever you are...” Alphys interjected, “Mettaton isn’t my favorite guy either, but maybe if you told us what’s going on--”

 

“I’m sorry was ‘I’m taking this show in a new direction’ too subtle?!”

 

Mettaton crossed his arms, “This has gotten old, Sans get Burgerpants out of my recording studio--”  
  
“IT’S NOT BURGERPANTS!” What appeared on screen garnered a response that rocked even Mettaton to his core. The face and body looked like Burgerpants, but that’s where similarities ended. His mouth seemed to carry a sharp overbite like fangs. Across his face and hands there were several stitches, making him look like a creature of the dead. He wore a yellow suit with black pinstripes with a red pork pie hat atop his noggin. The recording studio had changed as well, turning from a regular studio into a throne of wires and consoles crisscrossing every which way. The way he sat cross-legged and grinning it didn’t feel like the old anxious wreck of an employee but someone brimming with dangerous confidence, “Burgerpants is dead, Greg is dead. I’m someone better! Maybe this will ring a bell, Metta. Call me...Meat Dummy, the puppeteer of flesh and steel. Ring any bells?”  
  
“Uhhh why would a new made up name help?” asked Alphys.

 

But for Mettaton, he put a hand to his face, shocked. Indeed the strange Burgerpants amalgamation had rung bells, “...D-Dummy?”  
  
“That’s right, remember your old cousin?”  
  
“Cousin?!” the room erupted.

 

“I’ll get to that story later,” Meat Dummy continued, “But right now Mettaton, you’ve got a whole lot of losing to do.”

 

“...what did you do to Burgerpants? Was his name really Greg?” asked the bot.

 

He scoffed, “Ha! Of COURSE you didn’t bother to learn his name! It’s real amazing what happens when two people merge together in horrible ways to off one guy they really hate!!!”

 

“But why?”

 

“You seriously ask that after running these games for so long?! After keeping these mutants under your thumb just so you can move that stupid...pretty box on TV for everyone to see? You could have freed us!”  
  
“Yeah!” Alphys joined in, glaring at Mettaton.

 

Undyne resounded, “I like him.”  
  
Frisk had to agree, as crazy and scary this guy sounded, he made sense for that one instant.

 

“It’s always one tyrant after another isn’t it? The humans, Mettaton...but I’m ending it. This is the final MTTX-ML Blah Blah Who Cares Games because I’m blowing the dome SKY HIGH!”  
  
...well, there went any valid points that cat mutant had.

 

“I’d rather be god of a vast dump than be king of a puny greenhouse! It ends Mettaton!”  
  
Mettaton scoffed, obviously disguising his fear, “How could you possibly do that? The Underdome is made to withstand anything: bombs, storms...anything.”  
  
Meat Dummy grinned, “Not anything. That’s my ace in the sleeve, Mettaton. You keep forgetting people you leave under those gorgeous heels. Maybe this name will jog those memory banks..Napstablook? Eh? Eh?”  
  
The bot turned away from the screen, covering his mouth, “Blooky...”

 

“Who gives a kid a name like Blooky?” asked Bratty.

 

He laughed, “So you do remember...you keep hiding things, Mettaton. But now it ends. Once Napstablook awakes they’ll bring everything around the dome to smitheereeeeeeeens!!!”  
  
“We can still stop you!” Alphys scoffed.

 

“DUMB! Boy you’re an idiot! You’d think I’d tell you all that if you had a chance?! I began the startup to Napstablook HOURS ago.”

 

“What does that mean?” asked Bratty.

  
“I can tell you that it’s not anything good,” muttered Mettaton before speaking to Meat Dummy, “So why tell us?”

 

“Because...” he slid back in his throne, getting comfortable, “I wanna tell a story. And you’ll listen! So shut up and listen!”

 

“Oh god can we please sit down?” asked Catty.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter is a little early but I'm sorry I was super excited to get to this bit I've been holding onto this reveal for a year


	9. Presidents and Kings

Meat Dummy began:

“Once upon a time this whole land, probably the whole world was ruled by a man named Mr. President. If anyone needed something done, Mr. President was the human they looked to. Now, Mr. President believed in a thing called Do What You Want. And because of Do What You Want, Mr. President made sure no one asked questions or meddled with how they made or did anything. That meant when people got sick from the food they ate, Mr. President called those who tried going after the people that made the food whiners and complainers.

 

It was good for awhile! Some people got sick, who cared? People who Did What They Wanted got rich and the people who didn’t get sick were happy! Happy endings all around! But then the people who were getting sick began to change..and those changes were new and fast. That made people worried. These new people weren’t sick anymore but now they were new and different! They were mutants, if you’re too stupid to keep up. Now humans...they don’t like different.

 

Mr. President ignored the problem at first and let the humans and mutants sort each other out. The humans in Mr. President’s country liked to take the law in their own hands and most the time? Their law sided with them. But even Mr. President couldn’t ignore it when he saw humans and mutants making the whole country a battlefield. So what does your Mr. President do? He declares war on the mutants! It was a short war. It always is when one side has more money and missiles. And in the Mr. President rounded them all up, why? Not to get rid of them, noooo….

 

See, Mr. President wanted to watch them like dumb plants in a garden, his own little garden for him and him only. He put them someplace no one could find them, one of those weapons testing grounds. The worst thing is he called the whole thing a humane. Ha! Like being trapped was humane. He kept food around, but mostly he put in screens so he could watch them. Watch them like zoo animals. Soon after that Mr. President ended, the man who died without telling any other human the secret of his garden his...dome. Like he wanted them to die with him!

  
The mutants suffered until they found their own Mr. President—King Asgore. He helped in the war, he knew how to make the Underdome more than a zoo. He and his wife put people to work to make this a working, thriving world. The squat Lizard over there was one of them!

 

Lizard and a few others knew there wasn’t enough mutants to keep this place running on its own. And so there were three machines: me, Mettaton, and Napstablook. Mettaton was made as a medic and morale booster. A LOT OF GOOD THAT DID. Me, I was the oldest, a simple training bot for fighting humans but Lizard here...helped me make myself into a defense grid! That’s right! I kept you all from dying from any stupid humies!”  
  
Alphys interjected, “I thought you were just a routine program, a prototype I didn--”  
  
“NO INTERRUPTIONS! Where was I? Oh yes, you might be thinking ‘what happened to the humans?’”  
  
“No….” Undyne said.

 

“NO MORE TALKING. What happened to the humans you ask? Inside while we got our lives together and slowly got forgotten, Mr. President’s great country just fell apart. I don’t know. It was one of those ‘economic’ things. That’s the kicker, lousy humans, you did all that to yourself. We were all locked in here while you were busy becoming cavemen!  
  
That leaves Napstablook, doesn’t it? Napstablook our youngest cousin, is the heart of Underdome. I bet Lizard trampled through their veins without even knowing it! They keep this stupid place alive by both siphoning the disgusting radiation Mr. President buried here and keeping the Underdome running all the time.

 

Stupid Blook, when the scientists and Asgore awakened them and told them of what terrible task they had to do, it was too much for Napstablook to deal with. They went critical, I felt it happen. Course, Asgore had to stop it by making him sleep and running it as a subroutine. Stupid stupid stupid, the leak from their core poisoned our King for his short life. Once he died, Mettaton just HAD to take over and start your Monkey show!  
  
And me? I dumped myself into a dumpy body, one of the training dummies I had when I was just a stupid bot.

 

So it comes into a circle like a...circle or something! WHATEVER. The lesson here is I’m done with sitting through this spinning wheel of lies and stupid mistakes. Mettaton’s not the leader here anymore. I am. You can call me...President. President Dummy. The last President of the world. Because when Napstablook wakes up they’re gonna go not just critical but they’re gonna go Mega Critical! They got enough energy to blow a hole the size of an entire...I’m thinking a whole state. And the fallout? Oh that’s gonna be amazing.”

 

Mettaton was somber the entire story time, he raised his head, hesitant to speak for the first in a long while, “...may I speak?”  
  
“Ohhh look at that! Mettaton is finally asking me for something! What is it, what kind of spin are you gonna put on me? This body doesn’t have nice memories of you and neither does this brain!”  
  
“I admit taking Asgore’s place was selfish, but...I truly thought Blooky was gone. Asgore was gone. Alphys was gone. Toriel...I never saw her again. I only did what I thought a robot like me would do...I thought ‘why not make them happy at least’? ”  
  
“That...” he snarled, “is the worst excuse I’ve heard anywhere. And I have an entire lifetime worth of excuses coming from this body!”

 

“I-I’m with the psychopathic cat-robot on this one.”  
  
“Please...Meat Dummy,” the words sounded strange coming from his mouth, “Wouldn’t you rather work with me? President and King? We could have a new government! Just me and you!”  
  
Meat Dummy cradled his chin, bored, “NO! You didn’t get ANY of what I said! I said I’m DONE with kings and presidents! I’m done with this dome! I’m gonna make it a big stupid hole in the ground AND NO FORCED SCHMALTZ IS GONNA CHANGE MY MIIIIND—speaking of, let’s see how much the viewers are panicking?” Meat Dummy swiveled in his throne, fiddling with some screened when he slammed a control, “WHAT?! They’re TUNING OUT?! I just spilled our entire dirty laundry for everyone to hear! I told them I was gonna destroy this entire dome!”  
  
“Speech was too long and boring,” Doggo said.

 

“Yeah I spaced out,” Catty said.

 

“You DID monologue without any break, darling...plus you know, everyone has seen my assistant Burgerpants.”

 

Meat Dummy gripped the throne, his nails scraping over the materials deep, “GREAT! FINE! If they want to spend the last moments of their lives in ignorant bliss, go ahead!”  
  
“...why tell us anyway?” Bratty asked, “You could have just done it without any of us knowing.”  
  
Frisk nodded. Now they knew they could stop him.

 

The twisted mix of flesh and metal cackled, “Yeah, I rambled! But that was just to fill the time between then and when the missiles hit your ugly house, Mettaton which should be in...a minute!”  
  
Undyne kicked in a wall, showing them a good view of the outdoors and about a dozen incoming missiles.

 

“Wait!” Crone wheeled himself in, battered and busted up, “Let me...sit with you! I could be your general! I know the human world, we’d make a great duo eh?”  
  
“You must think I’m a big idiot! I saw you betray EVERYONE multiple times! Why would I want that near me?! More importantly I don’t want to rule your world, I want to BLAST IT TO OBLIVION! I don’t need your friendship, Croooone!!! I got knives! I got missiles! These guys will be dead, but you? You’ll be MEGA FUCKING DEAD.”  
  
Crone whined piteously.

 

Undyned however knew the approach of the missiles wouldn't stop. Without thinking any further, her eye lit up that bright red, sending a blast of laser light, slicing the missiles in mid air. Of course, this made them explode on impact, an explosion much close to the Happy House. Already the top foundations of the house began to crumble and shake.

 

“...it was a good effort, darling,” Mettaton said.

 

Alphys already began to move under the protection of Undyne, “E-everyone brace for impact!”

 

“Aw damni--” the screens with Dummy’s face began to turn to static, cracking from the structural instability.


End file.
